Chapter Four: One More Game

The trio approached, striding confidently along the empty streets,
intent on their destination. They seemed an odd, mismatched bunch.

Kenshiro was tall and lanky, and moved with a calm certainty that
marked him as someone confident in his skills and abilities. Clothed
as he was, in gray clothes rather than black, he was actually fairly
hard to make out in more shadowed areas along their path.

The second was a little smaller than Kenshiro, and a little broader
in the shoulders. This one answered to Yoshi, if he did at all.
A blunt man, in conversation as in approach. His face was bland,
the only noteworthy part being the small scar above the right eyebrow.
He didn't particularly care about obfuscation, and had opted for
a worn leather jacket over a tee, and blue jeans. The first impression
one got when looking at him was — you don't want to be in front
of him when he got going. He had about him the same presence as
a steamroller.

The last one he was out of place. Ichiro Ikari was shortish,
stocky, and somewhat balding. Bespectacled and wearing a presentable
if old-looking suit, one would think he'd try as he could to avoid
the company of the two others. That is, until you really
looked at him. He didn't fit in more ways than just his appearance.

Before them, just around the corner, the Tendou dojo stood, quiet
beneath the cloudy skies of the night.

Nabiki didn't know what had woken her up, but judging from the
cold sweat she could make an educated guess. She closed her eyes
and tried to remember the dream, ignoring her instinct's insistence
to ignore it lest she find out something she really didn't want
to know

and sat up with a gasp as an image from memory came flooding
into her mind, as clear as something immediately before her eyes.

She could almost smell the coppery tint in the air, the shower
of scarlet rain, of blood, falling around her as the Yakuza thugs
who'd attempted to "collect" their due from her were shredded
by something. She clutched her eyes shut again, trying
desperately to drown out the image and noise of whatever had done
it, the glint of metal in the moonlight that she remembered having
seen

she let loose a slow, ragged sob

and stopped breathing altogether as she realized there was
something wrong, and not in the memory. In the now.

Ignoring the stiffening limbs and aches from yesterday night's
"interrupted" beating, she rose, straining to find what
had drawn her attention.

She heard a noise from somewhere downstairs, and froze again, stopping
her breath again. There was silence

It was probably nothing, she reasoned, her mind not really
believing. She shook her head, picked up the baseball bat that she'd
stashed underneath the bed.

She realized it was the first time in almost a year that she was
actually holding it. She'd actually liked playing — softball,
that is — back when she'd had some free time. As in before
the Panda came and drove the living expenses into the sky.

She realized that she was too sore to actually give more than one
decent swing with it, but it was better than nothing. And if it
proved to be a quirk of her hearing, well, better safe than

that was the moment that her door flew open, rather violently,
and several dark forms came inside. She swung

She watched the beast, even after she'd lost her physical manifestation.
The overwhelming feeling of hopeless rage coursed through her, at
being unable to stop it from passing, but it was swiftly replaced
as she sensed the other presence. It wasn't quite as dark, but more
of a maelstrom. Where this one was almost a uniform, and she had
to grudgingly admit, somewhat beautiful obsidian, the new one was
murky, tumbling in misdirection and malice.

Just like the one that had taken her life.

Deities, it was happening all over again.

The Revenant contained a useless cry, and instead focused. There
was little to draw on, really, to speed her regeneration. She needed
to bind together enough energy, and do it coherently enough, to
take form again and defend her daughters. Even if it meant her ultimate
demise.

If it was the last thing she did, she'd not let any of these monsters
hurt them

She looked at the white haired man shaped beast that had sent her
into this state, and boggled as his body dissolved into rolling
mist.

A wave of malevolent energy, very subtle and understated but powerful
in its own right, swept past her and into the household.

She despaired for a moment, but then bent her will to the task,
actually grasping some of that energy and binding it to speed her
own recovery.

She prayed that she'd make it in time as her full concentration
turned inward, towards restoring her reserves.

"What the hell?" Koga shifted, suspicious of something
he had no idea of what, though. "What's with the fog, anyway?"

They could see a thin film of white vapor covering the grounds
inside the gate, and stepped in cautiously. Nothing happened.

"Could be from the pond," Yoshi commented, pointing at
the small body of water.

"Could. I'm not sure, though " Kenshiro wasn't a
genius, but he hadn't gotten as far along as he did by foregoing
caution.

"Be still," the "sarariman" told them as he
strode, confidently, into the house. He ignored the fog. "I've
put them all to sleep, so get the girl and let's get out of here."

"Ain't'cha coming in with us?" Yoshi' eyes narrowed into
slits. "I mean, that's what you're here for, ain't it? Makin'
sure nothing happens to us like to the last guys who tried it?"

"There's nothing inside but five humans," he scoffed
at them. "One is somewhat more talented at controlling his
own energy, but his mind was so weak it was child's play to put
him to sleep."

"What about outside?" Kenshiro swept the grounds
with an experienced eye.

"That," Ichiro answered, grinning darkly, "is
exactly why I am here. Now go, I will see to this inconvenience."

The two men looked to each other, then to him, nodded and started
inside.

Ichiro waited until they were gone before continuing towards the
pond. He could almost sense something there, but it was
somewhat difficult. He focused more intently, but again, couldn't
find what it was that had aroused his interest.

Instead of ignoring the sensation and dismissing it as harmless,
he decided to investigate. And he was getting tired of keeping up
the facade.

Ichiro's posture straightened, his face twisted and lengthened
as the suit he was wearing melted into his skin, which in turn became
grayish in color. His eyes, now twin pools of blackness, again scanned
the yard.

He grinned.

"How quaint, a guardian spirit." He grinned, looking
at the astral form of a kneeling woman, ambient energy gathering
around her as she tried to

He thwarted it, sending out his own feelers and drawing the power
into himself. Her head shot up, gaze wild, fixing on him.

"So, this is what killed those pathetic little humans?"
he leered. If she were corporal, he could have had some fun with
her before getting to the gristly grit of work, but alas "Too
weak after dealing with those whelps yesterday? Not even able to
stand."

He stepped closer, a wide, toothy grin forming on his face.

"What?" the wind whispered, genuine puzzlement taking
place of the loathing on the woman's face for an instant. "Yesterday?
What men?"

The being going under the alias of Ichiro Ikari had known many
liars, some insanely skillful, and had in time learned to glean
the truths from lies quite aptly. That was why he was shocked to
see that this spirit, however much loathing and hate she held towards
him and his kind, apparently was being truthful.

He was arrogant, but not stupid. And he realized that he'd just
made a mistake. The power signature of the spirit had much potential,
but seemed weakened. There was something in the air, a lingering
speck of power. He threw all his senses into a search, not subtle
at all

then he simply looked and saw that the mist was
gone.

A window on the first floor of the Tendou home erupted in a shower
of glass and splinters, and he whipped his head about at the noise.

He had this sudden feeling of impending dread and before
he could see to it or do anything about it he found himself impaled
on a sharp steel blade, back to front.

Ranma was laughing. Of course, this manifested as some small fluttering
of the air at his current point of "perspective".

That was the weird thing about this form. He had no sight, no real
hearing, nothing like that only a sense of touch. Right now
he was spread thin, a film of mist barely above the ground outside
of and inside the Tendou house.

His so-called "perspective" was currently rooting through
Genma Saotome's pack. And shaking with laughter at the contents.
He didn't have to unpack anything, even, since he simply sent wisps
inside to probe the items inside, then his disembodied mind read
and interpreted the sensory data, feeding the results to his actual
consciousness.

And as the examination ended, he concluded that the only thing
he could do was laugh at it all.

Ever since he'd witnessed what a real family should be like, more
or less, he'd held nothing but contempt for the bag of flesh, bone
and lard lying on his side just a few feet from the pack. This only
confirmed him in his views.

The various contracts, especially the one with his "'mother",
made him want to really laugh out loud, from the top of the Tokyo
Tower preferably while dangling Genma down from one hand,
by the intestines.

Still, he contained the malice as well as he could. Sure, he could
just off the bastard, but where would the fun in
that be?

His attention turned outwards again, as he felt disturbances in
his thinly stretched mist form. Three. Two humans, one other.
Must be what he'd felt coming before. Interesting one, he had to
admit. He'd seen some of this world's supernatural menagerie whilst
in China, but this was somewhat different. Energy feeder, it looked
like, with some power over minds. He felt the compulsion to sleep
sweep over the compound, and take root in all of the members of
the household, temporary or not.

The spirit outside was gaining strength rapidly. Even for a Revenant
this was noteworthy. She had will, he had to admit. He would have
said spirit, but he didn't care for bad puns right then.

Actually, had he know that this sort of being haunted the grounds,
he'd have brought the girl home himself instead of putting a compulsion
to get there herself, clean up and go to sleep into her mind. It
would have made for a more interesting night, certainly. After a
while, you needed some novelty in life or unlife. He guessed
that for him that need came after less time than for others of his
kind, but then again, that's the way he'd always been.

The two thugs, if he'd read them right from what he could tell
of them in this form, were going upstairs now. Fairly skilled, he
noted. He felt little air vibrations. Quiet, too. He'd have nodded
if he'd still had a head.

Hmm. Now to liven things up a bit, he thought gleefully.
Sending a mental command through the already flagging link he'd
established through last night's feeding, he told the girl to wake
up.

Then he went about pulling himself together to enjoy the show in
a somewhat more active manner. After all, he had a sinking suspicion
that the energy leech in the yard was here because of him. Sure,
he could just let them do as they please, but again
he was a creature of fancy, and he saw no fun if events
should take that path.

Feeling the floor underneath his feet again, the white-haired vampire
slid open the door, and slipped into the corridor, right behind
the two thugs.

Yoshi's head rang from the impact, but the blow was ill-timed and
not really that strong. It rattled him, but he'd been hit with worse.
His hand lashed out, knocking the girl's weapon aside.

"Bitch! You'll pay for that," Yoshi growled at their
mark, and put his fist right into her solar plexus. Nabiki nearly
folded, and would have had her hands not been restrained. He grabbed
her chin roughly, pulling it upwards. "What the fuck is so
damn special about you?"

She spat in his face, blood and saliva hitting him right smack
in the eye. Then she kicked him in the groin. Yoshi's face twisted,
and a moment later he fell to his knees, hands clutching his privates.

Kenshiro didn't waste his breath, simply moving one hand forward
and putting his fingers around the girl's throat, pressing down
just so

She squeaked in pain, and he stopped, keeping the grip tight enough
to hurt but not tight enough to strangle or crush the windpipe.

Yoshi came up again, face purple with rage and pain, slamming a
vicious backfist into her face. Blood flew as her skin broke along
the cheek.

Nabiki was in considerable pain, both from the manhandling and
from the blows. The bruises from last night weren't helping any
either. The burly man hit her and she saw stars, sight dimming from
the pain.

Under the pain though, she could feel something

Make it stop, please make it stop

Her eyesight swam slightly as tears started pouring from her eyes.
The burly man hit her again, on the other side of her face, nearly
making her black out. She felt hands reaching for her pajama top

"We don't have time for that Yoshi," the one holding
her said.

"Screw that, I'm getting even with this little fuckwit. Let
Ichi handle the crap 'o whatever's out there. He said he could."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking — he said she'd be sleeping
too. Was she?" the guy behind her was insistent. "We can
have fun later. Right now I want to get the hell out of here and
make sure we get the job done."

Nabiki's eyes went wide, and she would have cried in despair had
the fingers not been so tight pressing down on her throat. Her eyes
darted from one corner of the room to the other, seeking something
while the two argued. Her gaze passed the doorway, coming to rest
on gold.

I can make it stop. If you want me to.

Images of scarlet rain came to her, unbidden, at the whisper in
her mind. It was enough to make her stop struggling and freeze,
shaking slightly. Her captor noticed, and looked around.

"What the hell's she looking at? Ain't nothing there,"
she heard the man grumble. And yet, she could see the gold-flecked
blue eyes, floating in a pool of shadows just inside her doorway.

She felt her feet leave the ground, the pain in her limbs coming
back with a vengeance, and knew that it was either that or
Well, there was only one thing waiting for her at the end of the
road she was on right now.

" yes " she croaked.

"Great, now she's talking to herself. Stupid little "
the man shook his head in disgust.

Good.

She wasn't quite sure what happened next. She could see the eyes
close, certainly, and suddenly there was a sound like air whooshing
into place behind something moving at extreme speed. The grip on
her arms tightened, making her give a whimper of pain, and then
gave way as a loud sound of something breaking was heard.

Nabiki fell to the floor, managing to break her fall despite her
mind's confused state, and turned her head.

He was standing there, in front of a huge hole in the wall where
her window had been, backlit by the street and city lights. Long
white hair in a thick braid that reached the small of his back,
slitted eyes, blue with golden specks floating amongst the color.
He gave a crooked smile, and she tried backing away as she took
note of the well, there was no denying it the fangs.

A memory surfaced, and her hand shot upwards, regardless of pain,
to the side of her neck. Wide-eyed she looked at him

"Nothing in life is without a price. You don't think this
is a selfless gesture of good-will, do you?" he chuckled
darkly. Whereupon he turned around and, still smiling, dove out
the hole.

Nabiki stared after him for a moment, then tried to rise. She managed,
shakily, after a few seconds' worth of effort, and unsteadily moved
to the hole. She could hear something from below, buffeting wind
and the swish of steel bracing a hand against the wall, leaning
against it, she looked outside.

Apparently, the night had more surprises than what she'd already
witnessed in store.

For a moment the girl stared, uncomprehending, then in a choked
whisper she said a single word, as if trying to reassure herself
as to what she was seeing.

"Momma?"

Ichiro tore himself from the blade, thanking whoever it was that
had been watching over him that it was just a steel blade, nothing
more. He could detect some enchantment, yes, but nothing that could
hurt him. He reeled around, lashing out with a coiled whip of energy,
and the spirit he'd seen earlier jumped back with incredible swiftness.
Holding the naginata.

His eyes were very wide at that point.

"Revenant," he muttered, then snapped back into focus.
She was weakened, and wouldn't really be a problem if he fought
smartly. He could see that she was barely able to hold up that naginata
of hers.

The Revenant's eyes suddenly focused on something other than him,
and for a moment he thought it was a trick but then remembered

He threw himself aside, tumbling. He felt a gust of wind, and something
passing at immense speeds.

The Revenant moving that quickly he could understand.
But this? Whatever it was, was obviously material, and to move that
quickly .

"Nice," he heard, and his head turned to the speaker.
A pale young man, white-haired and clad in black and burgundy, standing
atop the compound wall. "You dodged. I'm impressed."

He was about to throw out a retort about not being flattered in
the least by a human admitting to being impressed then he
really looked at the kid. And almost swallowed his tongue.
Whatever he was, it wasn't human. And it was powerful.

"But you're not really a challenge like that," continued
the white haired thing. Ichiro refused to call that a man.
There was nothing even remotely human about it, aside from the shell
it wore. And its aura was just blank. A slab of obsidian,
impenetrable. "Pity. I'm not stupid enough to let you become
one, though."

Ichiro knew he could only hope to escape, and even that would be
difficult. He tensed, jerked he felt the winds again, and
desperately dodged away from them. There was a biting pain in his
arm, blossoming outwards. He didn't dare look and lose concentration,
but knew that he wouldn't have use of that arm until he regenerated
it.

That was before he suddenly felt another pain, this time in his
abdomen. He looked down to see a hand, the fingers clawed and actually
tipped with talons, protruding from just below his ribcage. He only
had time for one desperate jerk before he felt two fiery pinpricks
erupt on his neck, and then

Darkness.

Energy. He could use it just as well as he could blood, though
it hadn't been that way at the beginning. An invigorating wellspring,
really. It had been quite a while since he'd had his fill like this.
Before his leaving of Nosgoth actually. And it felt good
beyond description.

He cast the already shriveling husk away, swiping his tongue around
his lips to catch the last droplets of sustenance he'd taken from
the creature. Said creature's corpse was already at the "dust"
stage. Apparently the energy had been the only thing holding it
together.

"Vampire," came a hushed whisper. His head turned, inclined
upwards, to see a wide-eyed Nabiki. Her face bore an expression
of pure fear.

Ranma's hand shot outwards, deflecting the blade of a naginata
as it was about to go through his chest. He turned, and glared at
the exhausted Revenant.

"Didn't we already go through this today?" He
grimaced. "And look what it got you last time. Maybe I should
do something to the place, if only to show you I don't really care
squat. Now leave me alone and let me talk to my new servant."

"I swear to the Gods, if you do anything to her I'll "
the wind sang venomously.

The white-haired vampire turned away, towards the house again,
and leapt. Yeah, sure. So she was a protective parent. He had an
agreement to call in here, but really, what did he have to do to
convince her to stop attacking him?

Hell, if she'd just let him be the first time, he'd have taken
care of the two hench-villains and drank the energy leech anyway,
mostly because he considered the girl somewhat of a responsibility
already anyway, and he didn't like others cutting in on
his territory.

The short moment of reflection was interrupted — in mid-jump
actually. Ranma's eyes went wide with surprise, and not a little
anger as he felt magical energy discharge, and the Streaming device
in his pocket lit up like a lamplight on a Christmas tree.

"dead scream."

He was far from being a master at manipulating energy minutely,
but he could tell a mana spike from an attack if and when he sensed
it. This was one. He was airborne, with no way to really alter trajectory
in any meaningful manner, the small hop being too short ranged to
really be affected by any tries, what with the low speed and all.

Frankly, judging by the power of the incoming attack, it had a
fair chance of hurting quite badly if it hit.